


Sweet Child Of Mine

by sapphire_child



Series: Season 12 Bits [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s12e02 Mamma Mia, Gen, Headspace, Sam is an overgrown puppy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 01:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8383378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphire_child/pseuds/sapphire_child
Summary: The last time she saw Sam he was a giggly six-month-old – small enough that she could easily bundle him up into her arms. The few, blurry photos she saw on Dean’s cell phone camera were not enough to prepare her for the absolute behemoth of a man that her tiny baby has become in her absence.

Sam turns out to be very, very, very tall and Mary is a tiny bit blown away by it. A nice little introspective piece that looks at some of her first impressions of her youngest.





	

It’s been one thing getting to know Dean, her scrappy little boy who has grown into a fine-looking man, rugged and tall, and handsome to boot. But Mary Winchester is astonished, nay bowled over, by her youngest when she sees him in the flesh.

The last time she saw Sam he was a giggly six-month-old – small enough that she could easily bundle him up into her arms. The few, blurry photos she saw on Dean’s cell phone camera were not enough to prepare her for the absolute behemoth of a man that her tiny baby has become in her absence.

He’s tall, even sitting down and shackled to a chair. But once Castiel has healed him and he gingerly stands, Mary is startled by just how tall Sam actually is. He towers easily over Dean, even more over Cas and herself. Despite his size, his demeanour is surprisingly soft now that there is no immediate threat to him or his family. He rubs awkwardly at the fabric of his ruined t-shirt as he thanks Cas, and then keeps on glancing shyly over at Mary, as though he’s not sure he’s allowed to look at her.

His hair is still lank and sweaty, and he looks exhausted, but he’s just as handsome as Dean, in his own way. His jawline is just as strong, but more delicate and less squared off than his brother. His eyes are deeper set, and they’ve long ago lost the vestiges of the greyish-blue they were when he was born. Now they present as something closer to hazel. It’s hard to tell from so far away.

He smiles a little at her and his feet shuffle, as though he wants to go to her. But then Dean is shepherding Castiel towards her. “Mom next.” he instructs and before she can think to protest, the angel is in her space, touching his fingers to her forehead as he did after their car crash the other day. Mary feels the weird rush of power that accompanies being healed by angel grace and she fights back the urge to shudder. It’s not exactly unpleasant, but it’s certainly not something she can see herself being fond of.

She murmurs her thanks as well, and Sam continues to hover while Cas heals Deans own, minor injuries and then the three of them troop up the stairs together. Mary casts a few glances Sam’s way as they walk, watches the smooth way he moves through the house and outside into the sunlight. He tips his head back, squinting against the brightness, and then closes his eyes and lets out a relieved, rattling breath.

He’s beautiful she thinks, and her heart aches. What was he like at seven? At eighteen? As a toddler when he first started learning how to walk, and a small child who was learning how to read and write and do his sums?

The realisation of the loss is hard. And it hits her hard, the potential of each memory that has been lost winding her. Mary suspects that it’s going to continue to hit hard for as long as she knows her boys as men. But she has her children with her, and safe, for now. And that’s all she’s ever really wanted for them.

 

 

Much later, after dinner and pie, she is startled by a knock on her bedroom door. Sam offers her tea with all of the shambling grace of an overgrown puppy and her heart warms.

She’s seen Dean predatory and dangerous as well as soft and tentative. But Sam is still gigantic and beautiful to her, with eternally soft eyes and even softer hair. When she moves to embrace him, she marvels again at just how tall he is. She has to stand up on her tiptoes to even reach his broad shoulders, and it’s impossible to circle them with her arms. He’s incredibly strong too, she can feel it in the press of his arms around her back. He could lift her off her feet if he wanted, easily, she’s sure.

Or throw a monster clean across a room.

She immediately tries to quell the thought, but for all that Dean has told her that Sam is the intellectual one out of the pair of them, she can’t help the analytical side of her brain which is all too quick to catalogue his strength and size as the kinds of qualities that must have benefitted his chosen lifestyle.

As a hunter.

It hurts to let him go. It hurts even more to see the weariness in his face, to feel the calluses on his hands and remind herself that Sam is probably just as dangerous a foe as his brother – perhaps even more so.

Mary doesn’t know if she should be proud, or horrified.


End file.
